


When I Drink

by Adarian



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 00:51:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8823427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adarian/pseuds/Adarian
Summary: Overhearing Hawke and Varric plan their excursion to the Deep Roads, a drunken Alistair offers his services as their Grey Warden guide. As time goes on, he starts to recover from the failure of his past romantic relationship and his part in the Blight, but still struggles with his sobriety. When he and Anders grow closer, he finds that his fellow broken Grey Warden might just give him the strength he needs to keep going.Written for a kink-meme prompt.





	1. Chapter 1

There was an old expression he heard some bartenders say. "Pick your poison." Alistair hadn't been a drinker before the Blight or even during his Templar training despite everyone else picking it up. As a Warden he had found the phrase even kind of hilarious. He had literally drunk darkspawn blood. Actual poison that was going to destroy him long before any alcohol could, especially with how his body could endure pretty much anything else. 

So when he did start drinking, when that first bartender looked him dead and the eye and asked him what he wanted, Alistair almost smiled for the first time in months. He already had drunk the thing that was going to kill him. Everything else was just a chaser.

***

After a year and a half of drinking heavily, Alistair was still alive and almost out of coin. He had taken the odd job off a Chantry board and had one disastrous shift at the Blooming Rose, but mainly he had stayed close to the Hanged Man. His body processed alcohol too fast and he didn't want to be sober longer than he had to be. When he wasn't drinking, he was in his room, a tiny bunk just above the kitchens. He tried to sleep, but sometimes when the nightmares got too rough, he just laid there.

The bar itself was noisy. You could get lost in a corner by yourself and spend the day playing little games or in your own mind. Alistair tended not to notice individual people, but lately there was someone who kept catching his attention. It was a strange feeling, but one that was hard to forget. 

Alistair had noticed the other Grey Warden's presence instantly, but he didn't know if the other man did. He hadn't introduced himself and since he was here alone, Alistair just assumed something had landed him there too. Biology aside, neither of them were Wardens now. 

He heard the man's friends sometimes, but their words caught his attention now.

_-We need another Grey Warden if Anders won't come along._  
-Hawke, we were lucky finding one, what are the odds of another one?  
-All I'm saying is if you spending weeks surrounded by darkspawn, you want an expert with you. It'd be worth hiring someone.  
-Yeah, but again, where? 

Alistair rolled the words over in his mind. He needed coin. They could give him coin. It could have been hours, days, weeks, Alistair didn't know, before he stumbled over and said as smoothly as he could, "I'm a Warden." 

It was only the woman and the dwarf, not the Warden he was expecting. The pair of them looked at each other skeptically before the dwarf said kindly, "I'm sure you are, pal. Why don't I buy you another drink?"

Alistair shook his head. "I'm a Warden. I can help you."

The other man came back and upon seeing Alistair nearly dropped his drinks. 

The dwarf asked, "Blondie, you okay?"

Alistair looked to the man whose presence he had felt for so long. "Brother, tell them, Brother, I'm a Warden."

The man's face fell. "He...he is. His name is Alistair. He was stationed in Ferelden during the Blight. We met once. Well, not exactly met, but you can say he made an impression. Come, sit before you fall down."

Alistair sat beside him and his heart slowed to that strange comfortable throb of being so close to another Warden. He wondered if this Anders felt the same bond or it was the liquor that was playing with his memories.

"You're looking for work then, are you?" The woman asked.

Alistair nodded. The rest was a blur. They introduced themselves, explained the mission they were going on, and Alistair agreed without much convincing. A few weeks in the Deep Roads and he could go without working again for even another year if he spent his coin well. Or he'd die in the Deep Roads like he was supposed to. 

Win-win. 

It was only when he got back to his room that he realized that he wouldn't be able to drink that whole time. After a blissfully numb eighteen months, he'd have to be sober day in and day out. He didn't mind fighting. He could keep his mind distracted doing what his body had been repurposed to do. But he'd have to sleep at some point and the dreams would be only worse underground. And if he laid awake, he would just play the whole thing over again and -

No. He couldn't. He couldn't do this. Not even for that much gold.

Alistair's heart raced and he fled to the common toilet. He threw up, his body shivering and shaking, until he finally stilled, his arms resting on the washbasin while he tried not to be sick again.

A cold, wet washcloth was suddenly against his neck. Alistair looked up blearily to see a woman gently washing his face. She was familiar, but he couldn't place it until she said, "You poor sweet thing, you feeling any better?"

Alistair blinked. "Isabela?"

She smiled. "I thought that was you. When Hawke told me she found a Warden drinking himself to death, I thought it was only polite to say hello. Though I must say, kitten, you are in worse shape than I thought you'd be."

Alistair closed his eyes. "I'm alright." 

"You're clearly not," she pointed out. "Come on, you're staying in my room tonight. I've seen where Edwina set you up. You're so tall I'm surprised you fit in it. You'll get a good night's sleep, we'll get you some coffee, and we'll have a nice chat in the morning. Come on, let's stand up."

Alistair was too wrecked to protest. Isabela looped his arm over her shoulder and helped him back to her room. She sat him on the edge of the bed and helped him undress into his small clothes. He started to shiver again and she pulled the blankets around him. 

Alistair shuddered and she changed into a long, soft sleeping shirt and lay beside him. She read by candlelight, stroking his arm whenever he stirred.

Eventually he fell asleep, but the dreams that haunted him were not of the Archdemon or the memories of battle. Instead he dreamed of the Landsmeet, of that last conversation, of the moment when suddenly everything fell apart.

***

Alistair woke and found Isabela asleep beside him. He tried to roll out of bed without waking her, but his legs were too weak. He barely caught himself before hitting the floor, but ended up hitting his head on the end table.

He muttered to himself and sat on the edge of the bed. Isabela stirred and giggled at his injury.

"Let me get you some ice," she said.

Alistair shook his head. "Don't bother."

Isabela shrugged. "All right. We ready for a chat?"

Alistair's head was throbbing and his legs hurt. He didn't want to talk, but the woman had nursed him through the night and they did have a...history. 

Alistair asked quietly, "What do you want to know?"

Isabela sat beside him. "Well, to be honest, I heard you were dead."

"Close enough," Alistair muttered.

Isabela said, "Look, I'm not a woman who tries to make people talk about their feelings, but soon you're going to be headed in a dangerous place protecting someone that I...I have a lot of money invested in. You've got maybe a month if you're lucky before you get to the Deep Roads. I think you know if you try to quit cold turkey while you're already underground, you're not going to have a good time of it. I know we only know each other in the physical way, but I want to help you."

"Why?" Alistair asked. 

Isabela said, "Because almost two years I met a soft, sweet man who was desperately in love and had the nicest smile I had ever seen. That was a wonderful night, wasn't it? I thought about it often, especially if I was taking care of things myself. Now you're near rock bottom and you need someone. Might as well be me. It doesn't look like you have many other people right now."

Alistair hated himself for breaking into tears. Isabela rubbed his back and murmured soft encouraging things in Rivani. 

"What happened?" She finally asked. 

Alistair swallowed. "He left me."

***

Adair had begged Anora to spare Alistair's life. The soon to be Prince-Consort knelt in front of his future bride, pleading, "We had a deal."

Alistair stood transfixed as within a few moments, everything unraveled. The traitor Loghain to serve as his Brother-in-arms, the man he loved leaving him to marry someone else, the man he loved stealing the throne and crown he never wanted, everything leading to the moment where Queen Anora condemned him with exile and guards escorted him to the streets, Adair crying as he begged Alistair to forgive him. 

_We had a deal._ Those words would haunt him just as much as anything else they had witnessed together during the Blight. When had Adair betrayed him? When had the man who swore to always love him chose to break that oath? How long had he known before the Landsmeet? Had any of it been real?

***

Isabela only muttered in response, "Asshole."

Alistair laughed in surprise. "Yeah, he was, wasn't he?"

"So, you survived a terrible war, lost all your friends and family, were exiled from your homeland, your man steps out on you and betrays everything you thought you both held dear," Isabela summarized. "Am I missing anything?"

"I really miss my dog," Alistair added.

"You know Hawke has a mabari. Might not be the same thing, but it might be nice."

Alistair felt suddenly incredibly uncomfortable. He got up and grabbed his clothes.

Isabela apologized, "Alistair, I-"

Alistair slammed the door and went to his own room. He locked the door behind him and started to hyperventilate. His hands shook and his heart raced again. He felt like he was dying and he lived through his death, as he had many times before. 

He came to again, shivering and covered in cold sweat. He changed in his other pair of clothes and tried to sort out his hair. There was a knock and he tried to ignore it, but then Isabela picked the door and let herself in.

She apologized, "I'd like you to be able to take your time here, but we're on a deadline, kitten. Big beefy thing like you, I imagine withdrawal will take you about two days or so. Maybe three. It'll be nasty, but it'll be fast. So, here's your choice. I tell Hawke you're not going or you go through hell for the next few days with me. You tell me to go to the Void, I'll walk out. But I want to help you, Alistair."

Alistair started crying again and she sat on the floor across from him and took her hands in his. 

"Is that a yes?" She asked.

Alistair nodded and she hugged him. He threw his arms around her, so desperate to have someone hold him again. 

***

When they left for the Deep Roads, Alistair was a little under two weeks sober. He had spent most of that time sleeping, puking, and reading. His body was starting to remember that it had the endurance to walk all day, but it ached deeply. He found it strange as well walking in a party again. He felt like he was supposed to make conversation, but he felt like it took all of his effort to put one foot in front of the other. 

He didn't sleep the first night, lying on the ground beside Hawke's younger brother. Carver didn't seem to notice and continued to snore.

Alistair went to talk to dwarfs, but none of them seemed interested in spending time with him. He was severely tempted to buy some ale off one of them, but he had no coin and knew that it would just be worse getting a little buzzed and not get the full deep darkness he needed.

He missed Isabela so deeply it hurt. He was so starved for touch, for someone to brush through his hair or take his hand in theirs. He thought he would start longing for her, but it was something his heart would not let him do. The one time he had been to bed with her, he was accompanied by the love of his life. If he went to bed with her again, Adair's absence would be so obvious it would break the last few pieces of his heart. 

Alistair went back to his tent and Carver rolled over, blinking at him.

"You go take a leak?" He asked.

Alistair ignored him and laid in his bedroll, facing the other direction.

***

When Alistair returned to Redcliffe for the first time, he felt as if he had never been there before. Everything was familiar, but as if he had read about it in a book and was visiting it the first time. He was not the boy who had left Redcliffe and the place was no longer shaped by his memories. The windmill was not as tall, the lake not as deep, everything in comparison to what he had seen in the years since.

When Alistair returned to the Deep Roads again, now alone and afraid, he suddenly realized how dark it was. He heard the echoes in the stones, the hard impact of the rocks beneath his boots. What had seemed to be a slightly intimidating place now seemed like a tomb. Everyone in that part was relying on him, relying on his expertise and bravery, and he felt as if his years as a Warden had all been a dream, as if he had somehow managed to convince himself that it had been real.

The further they walked, the easier it was. His body remembered the Deep Roads and if he focused on the task, he could slip away in the years, and it was if he was his younger self on his first time. If he reached out, Duncan would be there, and his mentor would laugh warmly as he did and tease Alistair for being nervous. Never out of malice, but because he knew that was how Alistair could handle being coddled. Life was a joke and Alistair was perfectly fine being the punch line. 

_-Would you want kids?_  
-Definitely. I always wanted a big family. I'm thinking six.  
-Six? Well, I'm not sure my womanly hips can handle that.  
-Adopted, you goose.  
-I know, I know. I just can't picture being a dad.  
-You'd be the fun one, Alistair. You'd make jokes and take them fishing and I'd be the one who insists they make their beds and give them the sex talk. You get the easy job. Just start practicing your Dad jokes.  
-The next time you complain about how terrible my jokes are, remember this conversation. You asked for it. 

Alistair let the memory play out. The good ones weren't so bad. They were triggered by the loosest of connections, his mind desperate for any chance to think about those he had lost.

He slept better in the Deep Roads, better than anyone else at camp. To him the silence was reassuring, a sign that the stones remained at peace for now. His bedroll felt soft and worn and he wasn't too hot or too cold. He felt comfortable for the first time in a long time. This was his element; this is where he was supposed to be. 

***

When they reached the Thiag, Alistair knew there was something Wrong. Yes, capital W Wrong. He knew the Deep Roads, how they sounded, what they felt like, and he knew the familiar hum of lyrium, better than almost any other Warden. He couldn't put it into words, but something had been altered. Something evil, far worse than a mindless darkspawn, was lurking nearby.

He had spoken so little to Hawke, her brother, and the dwarf and he found himself struggling to initiate speaking to them, never mind getting them to believe his intuition. Alistair was a former Templar, a former Grey Warden, but to them he would always be a drunk. 

But he had to try.

Carver laughed. "That's it? Something's wrong? Are there darkspawn around? A broodmother or something? Seriously, sister, what are we paying this guy for?"

Hawke ignored him. "You said that the lyrium felt strange. What do you mean?"

"Refined lyrium sort of hums. Raw lyrium almost sings," Alistair tried to explain. "This? This feels like someone screaming from the bottom of a well. I have never been in a part of the Deep Roads where the lyrium sounds like this."

"Oh, so he's an expert on that too now?" Carver asked.

"I was a Templar," Alistair interrupted. "I know the affects of lyrium better than anyone else here. This has been tainted, tampered with, I don't know. But I know that no one should go in there."

"That's fine," Varric assured. "We'll only let the dwarves go in. You human types will just hang back until we get all the treasure out. No problem."

Alistair frowned. "No one should go in there."

Carver insisted, "We're not wasting all this coin just because you're creeped out."

Alistair pleaded to Hawke. "You must feel it too. Tell them."

Hawke hesitated, but finally said, "We've come this far."

They heard Bartrand calling from further in and Varric and the Hawkes followed him in. Alistair's heart was racing, but he went inside as well. He could barely breathe. The lyrium was screaming and his body was answering the call, his muscles aching, his blood begging for the substance he hadn't had in years. He wanted to stop it, anything to stop that, and he wished so badly he could knock himself out, just to be out, and forget this, and just to be home in his bed.

Home. Where was that? That didn't exist. He belonged here, in the Deep Roads. This is where he was supposed to die. He could just die now. He should have been dead already. Now, now the stones were calling to him.

Hawke put her hand on his wrist. "Alistair, are you okay?"

Then the door slammed shut behind them. 

The noise faded slightly as the chunk of lyrium moved with Bartrand. Alistair was not entirely sure where he was, not entirely sure of what had just happened. At some point he had fallen to the ground, hit his head. There was blood, just a little. Head wounds bled.

Carver muttered, "Great. So we're trapped underground and the only one who can sense darkspawn just fainted."

Alistair rose slowly. "We need to go. Now."

Carver spoke to him as if he were a dog. "What's wrong, boy? Darkspawn?"

Alistair replied, "Something a lot worse. I don't know exactly what it is, but it's fed by lyrium and I'm getting the sense it doesn't want us here."

Carver blanched slightly and Hawke said, "Lead the way."

***

Alistair knew Carver was sick even before the poor guy did. He half thought about not telling them, hoping that they could get to the surface in time. But on the second day, Alistair pulled Hawke to the side and told her the truth.

"I think your brother has the Blight," he said, his voice shaking.

Hawke frowned. "He looks fine." 

Alistair tried again. "I don't think, I know. I can feel it. He's strong and fighting it off, but it's going to take over. We can't do anything here. I know you're a healer. Maybe there's something you could do to-"

Hawke's face fell and she covered her mouth with her hands. 

"How long does he have?" She whispered.

Alistair admitted, "I don't know. Less than a week. Less than that if he keeps pushing himself like this. You and Varric shouldn't be too close to him either."

Hawke's lips trembled but she held back her tears. "Can we save him?"

"We can try," Alistair promised, though the lie was bitter on his tongue. He had seen the Blight take people within hours of exposure. Carver was strong, stubborn, and young. If anyone had a chance, it was him.

But that was the thing about the Blight. No one had a chance. No one survived it, not even Grey Wardens who only delayed it. 

He wondered again if he should have just kept it to himself. 

***

Carver figured it out on his own and asked for Alistair's help. Alistair didn't want to. He so badly didn't want to. He felt Carver's heart so strongly by that point, it would have been like killing a fellow Warden.

But he thought of Hawke. Sweet, gentle Hawke. He couldn't let her do this and he could see that Carver wanted to spare her that pain.

When the time came, Alistair was the one who ended his life while Varric held Hawke back. She screamed, the tunnels echoing with her sorrow. Alistair buried his body under a cairn of rocks, not wanting the other two to risk exposure.

A few hours after Carver's death, Alistair felt the presence of a group of Wardens nearby. He was afraid, worried they would sense him and kill him for abandoning his post. Then he felt guilt, such deep heart wrenching guilt, for if he had waited he could have brought Carver to them. He could have gone through the Joining. They could have saved him.

Had he felt their presence before? Had he known? Could he have known?

When they made camp, Alistair took first shift. He sat, feeling his brothers and sisters pass nearby. They must have known he was here. He waited for them to approach him, but no one came.

Yet when he slept, he dreamed of them, dreamed that they took Carver's body and made him anew. He dreamed of Adair carrying Carver in his arms, his cloak shrouding them both.

***

Hawke didn't speak until they reached the surface. Alistair made himself scarce once they got to the city, but Hawke tracked him down in the Hanged Man, forcing him to join her at a booth in the back.

"I just told Mom," she said, pouring them both a drink.

Alistair politely refused, though he was desperate. She downed both pints and ordered two more.

"I'm so sorry," he said.

She shook her head. "You didn't do anything wrong." 

"It's my fault he died," Alistair said quietly. "It was my job to keep you safe." 

"I felt it too," Hawke confessed. "I knew it wasn't safe. I let my own brother, my own baby brother walk straight into the heart of evil, because I didn't want him to feel left out. You didn't murder him, Alistair. He was dead the moment he went underground."

Hawke burst into tears and unsure what else to do, Alistair hugged her. She put her arms around his neck and her fingers ran through his hair. He froze and pulled away. He stepped back, but she grasped at his belt, dragging him back to her. 

Alistair said quietly, "You should go home, Hawke."

She shook her head. "There's nothing there, Alistair. Nothing there. I don't want to be alone, not tonight."

Alistair said, "You're drunk."

Hawke laughed. "You're one to talk. Don't tell me you never got handsy with someone when you were off your gourd."

_Once, when they returned to Redcliffe, just after Eamon recovered. They were a little tipsy, more Adair than Alistair. They were dancing outside by the windmill, looking over the entire village. Eventually one of them fell and both laughed, leading to them fooling around in the grass._

"You need to go home," Alistair said firmly.

Hawke growled and pushed him aside, storming up the stairs. Alistair leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Tears started streaming down his own face, but he wiped them away.

For the first time in nearly two months, Alistair went to the bar.

"Bourbon," Alistair demanded.

The bartender didn't say anything, just gave him a bottle. Alistair hesitated, knowing that he could just have one glass, one shot, just a taste, but the man was a professional and knew Alistair was no amateur either.

Alistair took it and started walking to his room.

He didn't remember anything else.

***

When Alistair regained consciousness, he was back in Isabela's room. He was fully dressed still and he was relieved that nothing had happened. The pirate queen looked over at him from her vanity with pity.

"This isn't going to happen again," he swore.

Isabela said nothing, just watching as he rose shakily to his feet. He went out to the common WC and washed his face, trying to remember what had happened. The flashes he got were just pathetic. He raved and ranted before stumbling upstairs. He had talked to Varric. He called him something, something Alistair didn't like.

Alistair went to Varric's room to find the dwarf drinking tea as he worked on a letter. He looked up at Alistair in amusement.

"Feeling better, Lucky?" He asked.

"Why'd you call me that?" Alistair demanded.

"I knew a guy from Ferelden who had this mabari. The poor thing had been ditched by an Orlesian and he raised it from this sick dying pup to a real gorgeous thing. He called him Lucky. I thought it was fitting, you being rescued from impossible things quite a few times. Besides, you've got that whole sad puppy look about you."

Alistair swallowed. "What exactly did we talk about last night?"

"A lot of things," Varric said, putting down his quill. "I'm not going to repeat them to anyone else, if you're worried about that. But if you want to talk about it sober, I'm here for you. You saved my life in the Deep Roads. The least I can do is listen."  
Alistair didn't know if he could really trust him, but he was so tired and just needed someone to treat him like a human being. So he let it spill out, without thinking, without holding anything back.

He broke into tears and Varric gave him a tight hug. Alistair ended up falling asleep in his bed in front of the fireplace, listening to the scratching of his pen.

When he woke again, he went to find Hawke. She was hungover, sitting on the roof of her shanty drinking watered down coffee. Alistair climbed up beside her, worried his additional weight would make it cave in.

"Do you still want me to work for you?" He asked.

Hawke sighed. "Yeah. I'm sorry about last night."

"Me too," he murmured.

She stuck out her hand and he shook it.

"Well," Hawke said, clearing her throat. "So what happens now?"

"You lead, I follow. I'm good at that. I come with great references."

Hawke laughed and Alistair smiled nervously. They stayed on the roof for a while until Gamlen came out, yelling they would break the tiles. Alistair helped her down and for a few moments, he felt almost himself again.


	2. Chapter 2

"Lucky, there's something you should know."

Alistair frowned as Varric gestured for him to sit. "What's wrong?"

"I've just gotten a letter from my cousin," Varric explained, pouring them both a drink. "It's not common knowledge yet, but I figured you should hear it from me before people are whispering about it on the street."

Alistair took his glass and sat down. "Anything exciting? The Wardens are now requiring us to take up music lessons?"

Varric said almost quietly, "It seems that Queen Anora is in the family way."

Alistair dropped his glass and it shattered. His hands continued to shake as he tried to process what Varric was telling him.

"How...how far along?"

"Apparently it's pretty hush hush, but she's showing a lot now. Maybe six, seventh months. Balin guessed she'd be due near First Day. Wanted to know if I had any bets on baby names since there's quite a pool about whether it'll be named after Loghain or not. I thought...look, I know this isn't easy for you to hear, but you're going to be okay, Lucky. I promise you. You up for a few drinks tonight? We'll grab the guys, play some cards, maybe find some pretty girls, or boys, depending on how the three bi guys are feeling."

Alistair shook his head, trying not to cry. "No, I...I think I need to be alone. I'm okay, I promise. I just need a bit of space."

Varric rubbed the back of his neck. "You sure that's a good idea? If you're going to be drinking, at least you should be with friends."

Alistair wasn't sure if a night out with diplomatic Varric and three men who hated each other was a great idea, but at least it would be distracting. And he could possibly prevent a fistfight breaking out. 

Alistair agreed, "Fine. Just..."

"I'll keep an eye on you," Varric promised, clapping his back. "I'll round up the gang. It'll be fun, Lucky, you'll feel a bit better."

***

Varric had meant well, bless his heart, but the night got off to a rough start. Fenris and Anders had recently agreed to try to be nicer to each other, which lead to them just both very awkwardly ignoring the other with the only occasional comment trying to find some common ground. Which seemed absurd to Alistair. The two had all sorts of things in common! They both were trying to fight injustice in the world, both had gone through extraordinary trauma, had the same friends, and even had the same favourite colour! Alistair had gotten along easier with Sten and the man had told him multiple times how his hair product was unacceptable under the Qun. 

Then there was Sebastian. Another man who truly did mean well. His common ground with Alistair was their Chantry background. In trying to get Alistair to talk about his experiences in his Templar training, he was only irritating Anders, which was frustrating Fenris as he was trying so hard to be polite only for to Sebastian to make things uncomfortable for everyone anyways.

It managed to stay civil until Sebastian asked, "Surely, you must have an opinion on what is happening with the mages here."

Alistair felt in that moment like he could have heard a pin drop. All four men turned to look at him and he suddenly felt like he was a student and all the other kids were waiting to see him screw up.

"There's a lot of things going on in Kirkwall," Alistair said finally. "A lot of bad things happening to a lot of good people. I don't blame people for fighting for themselves, whether they're slaves or imprisoned mages. All I know is that I don't like bullies and I don't like people going after the little guy." 

A hint of a smile crossed Fenris' face and he took another drink to hide it. Anders looked away almost sheepishly and Varric beamed at him.

"You're as cute as they said you were," the dwarf chuckled. "You hear stories about the Blight and there's always this fairy tale prince wanting to help ducks cross the road and protects flowers from getting stomped on. If I had written a line like that, people would start calling me an idealist." 

The word prince made him wince, but he was studied enough to know to hide it from his face. "Well, people like to tell a good story."

Sebastian let it drop, but whatever pleasantness remained in the night evaporated. Fenris drank too much too quickly and the Brother made his excuses and helped him back home. The remaining three drank and played cards for a little while longer until something came up and Varric had to rush off, leaving the two Wardens alone.

Without the others around, Alistair deeply felt Anders' presence, even more so than when he had been drunk. Anders kept his distance, but Alistair had the strong urge to be near him. It was the draw of Wardens to each other, that faint familiar presence of kin, of understanding.

"This is a little awkward," Alistair finally said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Anders asked, in the clinical way any healer would, "How are you?"

Alistair admitted, "I'm okay. Not great, but okay."

"I heard about-"

Alistair put his hand up to stop him. "Please, you don't have to do that."

Anders said softly, "It's okay. If you want to talk, I'm here. I...I don't know what it was like during the Blight, but I served in Amaranthine. I can't imagine what your nightmares are like."

Anders' hand brushed against his and Alistair shivered.

Alistair frowned. "This is going to sound funny, but are you alone in there?"

Anders paled. "Not exactly."

Alistair glanced up at him in surprise. "You're not possessed, you've just...got a house guest. Wynne felt like that sometimes. The spirit who lived with her would flicker sometimes when she got upset."

"Bloody hypocrite," Anders muttered under his breath. "Of course she did."

Alistair raised an eyebrow and Anders said quietly, "Maybe we should talk somewhere a bit more private."

Alistair admitted, "I'm not quite ready to leave yet."

Anders let his words hang and Alistair waited. If Anders demanded him not to drink, Alistair might listen. But instead Anders said, "I'll keep the light on for you. Come over to my clinic whenever you're...settled."

He walked away and sadness swept through him. Alistair wasn't sure if he wanted to scream or sob. He hated that these friends let him do what he wanted, thinking he could decide for himself. He wanted his agency taken away. He wanted someone to tell him what to do and he would just do it. He didn't want to have to feel. He didn't want to have to learn to live with this grief alone. He just wanted-

He wanted the man he loved, the man who had taken everything from him, and left him with nothing. He wanted to be with him and to be held and touched and told again and again that it was all a mistake, it was all a bad dream.

Alistair drank. Not enough to get blind drunk, but just enough to feel it, just enough to feel like it would only take a few more shots to be truly gone. Then he wandered over to Darktown and found the clinic, letting himself in through the unlocked door.

Anders had changed into a faded linen shirt and some incredibly worn trousers. He had looked slight before, but now it looked like a breeze could knock him down. Anders looked up tiredly, but to Alistair's surprise, he smiled.

Anders said, "I was really hoping you'd come."

Alistair started to apologize, "I'm sorry I...I should have tried harder."

"But you tried," Anders said. 

Anders brought him into the backroom. There wasn't much besides the bed and a few bookcases. A sheet of wood stained with ink was propped against the wall with a stack of yellowed parchment beneath it. Alistair sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to snap it beneath him.

Anders sat beside him, bringing them both a glass of water. "Did you know Oghren quit drinking?"

"Oghren?" Alistair laughed in surprise. "Really?"

Anders agreed, "I know, it's a little startling. The Commander and him had a really long chat one night and Oghren just...stopped. He acted like it was nothing, but you could tell he was in pain. Then one day Felsi brought their little girl to see him and it was like he was a whole other person. It was like he would have walked through the Void itself to hold his daughter again."

"Is this your way of telling me that if Oghren could, what's my excuse?"

Anders smiled. "I promise, it's not. I just thought you might want to know an old friend was doing alright."

It was Anders' strange way of working his way to explaining Justice. He told stories of Amaranthine, careful to only call Adair "the Warden-Commander", until the moment of his merging with the spirit. 

Alistair knew in his heart he couldn't judge him. He had known about the spirit who saved Wynne's life, knew that there was goodness within the Fade. And to save a friend? Well, Alistair was hardly someone who could lecture him about thinking logically about the people one cared for. 

It was a strange thought to have, but it almost felt like Justice was safer with Anders than outside in the world. Anders claimed his anger corrupted the spirit, but seeing how deeply the man cared even about strangers, how he had overcome so much, Alistair couldn't help but feel that it was just as much Anders' goodness that kept Justice from overwhelming him. Another soul might have been completely lost, but Anders remained.

Alistair almost fathomed it as if Anders had thrown himself upon a grenade and Justice was the shrapnel embedded in him. It might destroy him, but it couldn't destroy anyone else.

Alistair couldn't explain all that, so he only said, "It's okay, I get it."

Anders asked, "You don't think I'm a monster?"

Alistair said tiredly, "All Grey Wardens are monsters. We've all done things we're not proud of, things that keep us up at night. You tried to do good. That's all any of us ever tried to do."

"You saved the world," Anders reminded.

He shook his head. "No, I was already gone by then. Down in Gwaren by myself. I was just trying to kill as many darkspawn as I could before they got me too or I froze to death. I was asleep when the Archdemon was slain. I could feel it, like suddenly I was dying too. I always wondered if Adair felt the same thing, like the four of us were tied to this creature so much that it was going to take us with it."

"The four of you? You mean Loghain."

Alistair shrugged, but didn't speak of him. He couldn't. He couldn't force himself to say his name, even now that he was dead. 

"Why did you come to Amaranthine?" Anders asked. "After the Blight."

Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know. I don't remember much of it. I guess I just wanted to see him again. I know I was screaming, but I can't remember...I must have looked pathetic."

Anders agreed, "A little. It looked like a bad break up."

Alistair laughed sadly. "I guess it was. I had never technically left him. I guess I just wanted to burn that bridge before I left for the Free Marches." 

Alistair hesitated. "What was he like, when you knew him?"

Anders sighed. "That feels like a lifetime ago, Alistair. Justice and I remember him differently and that makes things complicated. We both liked him. Justice didn't understand his humour, but thought that he was a fair leader. I just thought he seemed sad. Like you just wanted to hold him and tell him that things were alright." 

Alistair asked hoarsely, "Did he ever talk about me?"

Anders hesitated and Alistair pleaded, "What did he say?"

Anders shook his head. "Nothing. After that night, he never mentioned you again. He didn't talk about the Blight. He didn't want to, so none of us pushed it."

Alistair's chest tightened. "Did he ever talk about his wife?"

Anders said softly, "Alistair, you don't-"

Alistair begged, "Please."

Anders rose to leave and Alistair grasped his hand, tugging him ever so lightly back to him. Anders' eyes flashed a hint of blue but he quickly calmed again.

Alistair let go and apologized, "I'm sorry."

Anders sighed. "It's okay. Alistair...I don't think there's anything I can say that's going to make you feel better. It's just going to make it worse."

Alistair admitted, "I know I'm pathetic. I'm just a pathetic drunk who was too foolish to see what was going on and now that I've got a chance...I just can't stop thinking about it. It just hurts so much. All of it. I lost everything that ever mattered to me. I thought I maybe I wasn't a useless discarded bastard."

Anders put his arm around him and Alistair nuzzled into him, so grateful for another's touch. He whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm blabbering on when you've got such bigger things. You keep giving everything and you've been through so much worse and I'm whining about having my heart broken."

Anders muttered, "Alistair, shut up. It's okay."

"You smell nice," Alistair murmured. 

A slip of a smile crossed Anders' lips. "Go sleep it off, Alistair. I've got some work I need to do still. You can have my bed."

" 's barely a bed," Alistair commented. "Get you a new one."

Alistair started drifting off and Anders rolled him under the blankets. He snubbed the candle and went back out into the clinic.

***

When Alistair woke, Anders was in bed beside him, sleeping restlessly. Alistair rolled out as quietly as he could and started making them breakfast with the meager supplies in the mage's larder. 

He came back into the bedroom with tea and porridge with some fruit. Anders was just stirring and looked up at him blearily. 

"How late did you stay up?" Alistair asked.

"Not too much longer," Anders promised. "A few hours maybe. I needed more poultices for today."

"And that took you hours?" Alistair frowned. 

Anders glanced up at him and Alistair flushed. "You-um-needed a break from me."

"No," Anders disagreed. "There are just...projects I have on the side that it's not safe for me to sharing details about. Especially around people with your background."

Alistair felt hurt. "You know, joining the Templars wasn't my choice. I was thrilled to get out of there before my vows. I'm not going to be arrogant enough to say I know how mages should be worked with, but I'm not your enemy here, Anders. I get it. I heard their rhetoric for over a decade. I know what you're going up against."

"And how much of it did you take to heart?" He asked bitterly. "Can you really say that you're not afraid of me or my kind? Can you really say that we should be free when you spent most of your life training to imprison us?"

Alistair protested, "That's not fair. I was at the Tower of Magi when it fell. I fought to protect every last one of the mages from annulment as well as blood mages. I didn't do it for an alliance, but because it was the right thing to do."

Anders asked wearily, "Are you always sure of the right thing to do?"

Alistair admitted, "No, but sometimes it's too obvious to ignore." 

"I like you, I do," Anders said, "but I'm not risking my people to confide in you."

"Maybe I could help," Alistair said.

Anders restrained a smirk. "While you are a talented fighter, I don't see you becoming a spy or a smuggler overnight."

"I've got to do something with my time."

"You want to join the Mage Underground because you're bored?"

"No," Alistair protested, "to help people. I took a vow as a Grey Warden to do that and I can't be one of them anymore. So use me."

Anders cleared his throat and Alistair blushed slightly. "I meant...you know..."

Anders rubbed his forehead. "This isn't my decision to make. Let me talk to my comrades and think it over."

Alistair said, "I've probably overstayed my welcome. Thank you, thank you for being there for me last night."

Anders asked, "Are you not going to eat?"

The mage offered him the cup of tea and Alistair drank slowly. They shared the meal, both knowing it wasn't enough for either of them. It was the quietness of the moment that they both craved, the silent presence of someone who did not judge for everything that came before.

***

Needing to talk to someone about the night before, Alistair made his way to Isabela's room. He laid on the bed as she started getting ready for the day. He told her about staying over at Anders, not entirely sure what it meant.

"You could do worse, you know. When I had him, he did this electricity trick. I'm pretty sure I saw actual stars. Complete out of body experience."

Alistair blushed and Isabela grinned. "Just teasing, puppy."

Alistair leaned over to look at her as she did her makeup. "How do you do it?"

"Kohl? Well, come over here and I'll show you."

Alistair shook his head. "I mean, you know..."

Isabela cast a glance over her shoulder. "Have casual sex?"

Alistair cleared his throat. "Yeah, that."

Isabela laughed. "Do you not remember how we met?"

Alistair blushed. "That was...um...different."

"Because your boyfriend was there? Sex is sex. You didn't know me and I think we had a good time together."

"Well, I..."

Isabela smiled. "It is different when it's someone you care about, even I'll admit that, but it can just be fun. What's wrong with a little fun?"

Alistair said quietly, "I didn't think I'd be with anyone else. Ever."

Isabela sat on the bed beside him and kissed his cheek. "You are too adorable for no one to fall in love with you. You'll find someone again."

Alistair shook his head, hating himself for the tears rolling down his cheeks.

She put her arm as far around his shoulders as she could. "There, there, pup, it's okay. It's like that for some people when they get off the sauce. It's either that or they eat everything sweet in sight and you already do that. You just take a few deep breaths and you'll go see Hawke and see what adventures she has for you today. I'll tag along, do some...sight seeing in Hightown."

Alistair shot her a look and she feigned innocence. "People watching. People with shiny diamonds and rubies. That they occasionally lose."

Alistair rolled his eyes and wiped his face. "Okay, let's go then."

***

The Amell Estate was still fairly run down so the adventures that Hawke had planned for the day mainly involved cleaning and painting. Alistair was happy enough to work away at it and spent most of the day by himself fixing chairs and sanding walls. The fact that the dog had taken a shine to him and followed him around all day only helped his mood.

It grew late and Leandra insisted that Alistair stay for dinner. He felt guilty, as he often did around her, but he gratefully accepted. He sat at the table with the two of them, the mabari resting her head on his knee.

Halfway through the meal, there was a knock at the backdoor. Hawke excused herself and went off to see who was there.

Leandra sighed. "It's that mage again I imagine. She's out with him all hours of the night sometimes. I know she's a grown woman and can look out for herself, but honestly she should learn some discretion. People will start to talk. Now, I know I can't say anything about running off with apostates, but still. It'd be nice if she just settled down with a nice boy and started thinking about her future."

Hawke came back into the room, pale as a sheet. "Alistair, can I talk to you?"

Alistair excused himself and followed her out through the kitchen and down a set of stairs into the cellar. He gasped, seeing a young woman who had the tar beaten out of her. She held her side, whimpering. 

"I'm not strong enough to carry her," Hawke apologized in a whisper. "I need to get her out of the city. I've sent Bodahn to get Anders to meet us in Darktown."

Alistair knelt down but the woman flinched at his touch. Looking at her more closely, he would have been surprised if she was any older than sixteen.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he promised. "Can I pick you up? We're just going to get you to a healer."

"Don't send me back," she pleaded. "I'll do anything, I can't go back."

Alistair swore, "I won't."

She nodded and he carried her like a bride, surprised at how little she weighed. Hawke sent a wisp up around them and led Alistair through a passageway. The tunnel was cramped, but Alistair kept his head down the best he could. 

The girl panted, trying not to cry out. Alistair stroked her arm the best he could.

"Hang in there," he said kindly. "We're getting you some help."

They left the tunnel and merged into streets of Darktown. Alistair followed Hawke to the clinic. Anders was waiting at back entrance and swore at the sight of him.

Anders hissed to Hawke, "You shouldn't have-"

Hawke whispered, "I needed to. Come on. We need to keep moving. We've probably got less than an hour before the next ship. Patch her up the best you can and then we've got to get her going again."

Alistair helped lay her on a bed and Anders pulled a curtain around them. Alistair shook out his arms, trying to get the feeling back in his hands.

Hawke leaned against the wall, biting her lip.

"Who is she?" Alistair asked.

"I have no idea," Hawke said. "Apostates sometimes show up at my house, trying to find a place to hide. Usually looking as bad as her. Someone gets taken to the Chantry for some special attention and manages to escape or pays a Templar off using the only thing they have."

Alistair wished he was shocked, but he had suspected since he had touched her. The dampened magic, her recoil at his presence. He knew. 

"So we're getting her out of the city?" Alistair asked. "Does she have a place to go?"

Hawke apologized, "I'm sorry, I can't tell you any of that. I'm sorry I dragged you into this mess in the first place."

Alistair waited until the girl was strong enough to stand and then watched as the three mages fled into the night. Alistair remained at the clinic, not wanting to explain to Leandra what had happened or to go back home when he felt like this. 

Alistair tried to make himself useful and cleaned up. He checked in on the few patients on the other side of the clinic, making a little girl with a fever laugh. Then he went back into Anders' bedroom and lit a candle, promising to buy him another.

Alistair was half asleep when Anders returned, dead on his feet.

"What are you doing here?" Anders asked, frowning.

"I didn't want to be alone," he admitted.

Anders sighed. "I just want to sleep, I'm sorry. If you want someone to talk to, maybe Varric's up still."

Alistair stood up to go. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

Anders touched his shoulder. "You don't have to leave. Just...I need sleep. You can stay here tonight if you want."

Alistair was unsure how he was supposed to respond, but he wanted so desperately to have someone beside him that he slipped under the covers. Anders exhaustedly lay beside him and closed his eyes. 

The mage rested his head on Alistair's shoulder. "You're always so warm."

"A lot of arm hair," Alistair joked, hiding a yawn.

"It's always so cold down here," Anders murmured. "It's nice."

Anders drifted off and Alistair closed his eyes, pressing his body to his in the tiny bed. He felt his heart slow and his head grow clearer as he fell asleep.

***

This time Anders woke first and Alistair rose to find him already working in the clinic, checking in with a teenager who had seemed to be scratching themself quite urgently.

Alistair hung in the background until Anders had a free moment. The pair went off to the side and sat against the wall. Alistair found them some scraps of food and they ate together.

"Is she okay?" Alistair asked.

Anders only nodded. Alistair did not press further. After a long pause, Anders looked over to him and swallowed hard.

"Will you come back tonight?"

Alistair promised he would and left him to work. He went back to Hawke's place to find his friend equally exhausted and sleeping in front of her fireplace. He sat down beside her and tentatively ruffled her hair. She grumbled and threw a cushion at him. He laughed and sat down on the floor beside her.

She muttered, "Mum thinks I went out drinking. I said you brought me home."

"I'm sure I was a gentleman about it."

Hawke smirked. "I imagine you were." 

"She thinks you and Anders are having an affair."

Hawke sighed. "Better that than...well..."

"She doesn't know?"

Hawke shook her head. "She just lost two of her kids in the last two years. I don't need her thinking I'm going to make it three for three."

"Let me help," Alistair pleaded. "Tell me what I can do."

"Alistair, it's not your fight."

He said quietly, "I made a vow to protect the people of Thedas and last night I stayed behind while two wanted apostates risked their lives to keep a nearly destroyed teenage girl alive. I know what the Templar Order is, Hawke. I know they're an army. I know what happens when soldiers believe their cause is just. And I know what happens when desperate people are pushed to the edge. I saw Kinloch Hold, Hawke. I can't let that to happen here. I can help you. I don't know if you believe in the Maker, but this morning when I woke up, I felt like I was here for a reason. I felt like the Maker sent me here so instead of destroying myself I might find some sort of redemption for abandoning Ferelden."

Hawke ran her hand through her hair and sat up. Alistair sat beside her. 

"So what do you say?" He asked.

Hawke took a deep breath. "I don't think you have the finesse for being a spy. No offense. But you could walk in and out wearing uniform without anyone noticing. You might be able to help people get out of the city. A lot of our people get picked off by slavers when they try to escape. The Vints won't be expecting a Templar with them. Can you still use your skills?"

"I didn't take lyrium long enough to get them to the same extent as others, but enough I can still purge magic."

"Good. Practice controlling it so you can hit one target hard. That should be good enough to give anyone with you an advantage. I don't know when you'll be needed. I've got to do some convincing to other people first. But try to get back into shape."

The door opened and Leandra came in, humming to herself.

"Look at you," she said. "Such a nice young man, making sure she's home safe. I'm headed off to service, Alistair, if you'd like to come with me to the Chantry. We'll let this one sleep it off."

Alistair agreed, taking Leandra's arm.


	3. Chapter 3

It was near dawn when Alistair made his way to Darktown and to Anders' clinic. The mage was just putting out his lantern, yawning. He turned and saw Alistair. Anders smiled tiredly. 

"You're okay," Anders said in relief.

"Aren't I always?" Alistair teased. 

It was unspoken, the strange rule they had. Alistair would be out at the docks all night, providing protection for mages fleeing the city. Then he would come back to the clinic. The first time was because he had been hurt, but then...well, weeks had gone by and it was still the same. Alistair would sleep at the clinic, usually in the back. Alistair would wake in the afternoon and they might eat together before Alistair left. 

Usually Anders was just waking up when Alistair arrived or if he was late, already in the middle of his work. But Anders was clearly exhausted. If he had slept, then it wasn't nearly enough.

"What's wrong?" Alistair asked, his own face falling. 

Anders murmured, "Not here."

Alistair followed him into the back room and Anders closed the door behind them. He hugged him tightly, burying his face in Alistair's shoulder. 

And then he told him about the Tranquil Solution.

Alistair felt like he was going to throw up and he sat down on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. Anders continued, asking him to come with him to find evidence. It didn't mattered what he had asked. Alistair was too stunned to do anything but nod his head. 

Merrill and Hawke joined them and the four of them crawled through old smugglers' tunnels to find Alrik. Alistair stood beside Anders, letting the two women scout ahead. Anders' hands were shaking. 

"When did you last sleep?" Alistair asked worriedly.

Anders did not reply, but a trace of blue flashed behind his eyes.

The rest happened quickly. Alrik was threatening a girl, Justice jumped forward, and suddenly Alistair was protecting all three of his mages as best he could while trying to get to the girl. 

But he was not needed. Justice destroyed the Templars as if they were strips of parchment. When Alrik lay dead, Justice screamed that all Templars would be killed and that mages would be free. Then he turned on Ella. 

Hawke screamed, "Don't hurt her!"

But Justice was too in control and his hand stretched out to grab her. Alistair didn't think, he just acted. He cast all his strength forward, silencing Anders' magic. 

Anders' eyes returned to their soft brown and he fell to the ground. Hawke went to comfort the girl and Alistair knelt beside Anders, relieved to find him still breathing. He expected Anders to try to scratch at him or start screaming if he was strong enough. But Anders looked at him with such profound sadness that Alistair's heart nearly crumbled in his chest.

Anders was too weak to stand and Alistair picked him up as tenderly as he could, holding him close enough to feel his heartbeat. He could still sense Justice, a vague ire running across his skin, but the rest was just Anders. It was the first time he had ever felt them as truly separate.

"We need to get out of here," Hawke ordered.

Anders felt so light in his arms and the mage shook, as if fighting back tears. Alistair strapped his shield and sword to him and carried Anders out of the dark tunnels and into the night.

***

Anders was eventually able to walk, but he did not speak. Alistair brought him back to the clinic, fearful of what the mage would say of his betrayal.

Anders hesitated at the door to his meager bedroom and turned to face him. Alistair's heart leapt into his throat as he waited for his friend to throw him out of his life.

Instead Anders embraced him, shuddering as he broke into tears. Alistair held him tight, cradling his head in his hands.

"I could have killed her," he whispered.

Alistair murmured, "It's okay, she's safe, you're safe, that's all that-"

"If you weren't there...Maker...what have I done?"

"It's over," Alistair promised. "He can't hurt anyone again. You stopped a monster from abusing people who couldn't fight back."

"I would have-"

"Anders," he insisted, "you didn't hurt her. She's fine."

He buried his face in Alistair's shirt and sobbed. Alistair kissed the top of his head and whispered again and again that everything was okay. 

Anders slowly recovered and pulled away just enough to look up into his eyes. Alistair couldn't help but brush the mage's loose hair back.

Alistair said softly, "I'm sorry I hurt you. I'll never do it again, I promise."

Anders said, "No. It was different than any other time a Templar has cut me from my magic. It was like...like you took my hands into yours instead of clapping them in irons. I couldn't breathe, but I wasn't afraid. I trusted you. I knew that you were protecting me. I...I felt safe."

Alistair was unsure what to say. "I..."

Anders murmured, "Stay tonight. Please."

Alistair agreed and followed him into the bedroom. Both stripped into their underclothes and Anders gently pulled Alistair into the sheets with him. The warrior held him tight, letting him rest on his chest.

Every thing he had been taught told him to fear the man in his arms. A deep guilt in his gut told him to bind Anders and drag him to the Gallows where he could never hurt another again.

But his heart, his damn foolish heart, told him that he was right where he should be. Anders trusted him to stop him. The Templars would destroy everything that was so beautiful and good in him and Kirkwall would suffer the loss. He could keep Anders safe from turning to Vengeance. He could protect him. He could be his shield.

***

Alistair woke alone and he looked around desperately, only to see Anders dressing in the corner. Alistair looked away politely. 

"I'm not running out, I promise," Anders said. "I just realized I forgot to leave milk out for the cats last night."

Alistair smiled. "I thought there was a suspicious lack of yelping this morning. You should forget more often and I'll actually get to sleep in."

Anders stuck his tongue out at him before heading out into the clinic. Alistair lay back on the bed, smiling to himself. He rose and tossed on his own clothes before going out to the little alley on the side of the clinic. 

Anders was talking to a rather fat looking tabby and Alistair gave him a moment alone while he tried to scrounge up something to eat. Finding little, he went back into the main part of the shack to tell Anders they were out of food.

The mage was in his little examination area, speaking intently to someone behind the curtain. He recognized Hawke's voice and tried to give the pair some space. The tabby was now asleep just inside the doorway and Alistair went to go pester it.

Hawke left and Anders came back into the room, holding a piece of paper in his shaking hands.

"Are you okay?" Alistair asked.

"I was right," Anders said, looking over the letter. "He was advocating for it. Every mage made Tranquil when they came of age...it looks like the Divine and the Grand Cleric had rejected it."

"That's good," Alistair said. "They're not going to do it. You can still talk to Elthina. She can still be an ally for us."

"Yeah," Anders agreed. "I can. This...this is good."

Alistair smiled weakly. "I get the sense I should let you get to your writing."

Anders shook his head. "No, I need time to think. I try to know what I'm going to say first. I don't want to waste parchment."

Alistair said, "Then you go do that. I've got to go to the market or neither of us are getting any breakfast. I'll be back soon."

Anders protested, "You don't have to do that."

"I know, that's why I'm so charming," he teased. "I'll be back."

Anders hesitated. "Please don't go. I...I want you to be here if Justice...I can't..."

Alistair cupped Anders' face in his hands, unsure what to say. Anders trembled beneath his touch. 

"Go back to bed," Alistair said softly. "I'll go get us some food. It's going to be okay. When you're feeling better, you'll feel in control again. I'll be back soon."

Anders nodded, a weak smile crossing his face.

Alistair kissed his forehead and left.


	4. Chapter 4

Alistair spent the next few days with Anders, refusing to let him do anything other than rest. The pair stayed with Hawke and Leandra, sleeping in actual beds. Anders mostly slept, but he looked healthier. Hawke and Alistair insisted that it was a bad flu and while they suspected Leandra didn't believe them, she didn't say anything.

A little while after Anders had recovered, Leandra asked Alistair to come to worship with her again. Feeling safe leaving Anders with Hawke, he agreed. 

He had met Elthina a few times before, but their conversations had always been very short and facilitated by either Leandra or Sebastian after service. But this time the Grand Cleric asked Alistair to come speak with her privately.

Since Leandra seemed busy enough gossiping with her friends, Alistair agreed and followed her to a private rooftop garden.

"I have been meaning to speak with you for some time," Elthina apologized. "Forgive me for not doing so sooner. I have heard of your struggles with the bottle. It takes great faith to put aside vices aside to better one's self. You should be proud."

"Thank you," Alistair said. 

Elthina knelt to examine a lily. She smelled it and smiled. "Beautiful. The flowers have grown so vibrant this year with all this rain."

Alistair admitted, "I hadn't noticed. I don't really know much about plants. If you're looking for advice about that, my friend Merrill might be a better fit."

Elthina smiled sadly and rose. "That is not why I wanted to speak to you. I need your help, Alistair. I know you are a man of God and I know you have a good heart. I worry that these new friends of yours are taking advantage of your nature. I want to make sure that you are not going down the wrong path."

Alistair said nothing and she continued, " I know about Ser Alrik, Alistair. I am told the one who killed him was possessed and you let him live. I understand the mages' struggle with their place in the Chantry, but you are not one of them, Alistair. Sebastian worries for you. I can see why. You are so much alike, you both, putting vice aside in favour of service. But one must choose their cause well."

"I mean this as respectfully as possible," Alistair said, "but you do not know anything about me, Mother. I appreciate the concern, but I don't think we have anything else left to discuss."

"No? I know who you are, Alistair. Once a Templar, once a Grey Warden, once a Prince. There is so much you could be. Kirkwall needs good men like you. You and Sebastian could both do so much good in protecting this city from the dangers it is facing. You should bring them to justice. You can save a lot of lives, Alistair. You have a chance to do the right thing."

Alistair said quietly, "You know during the Blight I met a lot of people who did a lot of terrible things because they thought it was for the greater good. A lot of suffering. A lot of pain. I don't think there's any one person who can say what the right thing is, Mother. And from everything I've seen in Kirkwall, I definitely don't think you are an exception to that."

Elthina pleaded, "You could have a life here, Alistair. You could marry a nice noble girl. We could even support you becoming Viscount one day. Imagine the alliance between Kirkwall and Starkhaven if Sebastian takes his throne. The Free Marches could be saved from this destruction. It would be an easier way, a gentler way. It is what your Cousland would have done, is it not?"

Alistair stormed out and headed back to his neglected room at the Hanged Man. Even after the long walk, he was too angry to sit still and paced around his bed. Too many things rushed around in his head. 

He wanted to hit something. He wanted to get in a fistfight and someone to break his ribs. He wanted it to hurt. He punched the wall a few times, but the bruising of his knuckles didn't distract him from the profound sadness that was sweeping through him. It threatened to envelop him, strangle him, and he decided to beat it at its own game. He found the bottle he had been hiding under his bed and pulled out the cork with his teeth. 

***

It had been a long time since Alistair had stumbled his way through Darktown, but it wasn't hard for him to find the clinic. He knocked loudly on Anders' door, even though he had a key somewhere. 

The mage opened the door and his smile quickly turned into a frown. 

"You've been drinking," Anders said, clearly disappointed.

Alistair leaned against the doorframe tiredly. "Please let me in."

Anders hesitated and gestured for him to come inside. Alistair followed. He was surprised to find that they were alone.

"No late night emergencies?" Alistair asked. 

"Only you," Anders said, a slight bitterness in his words.

Alistair turned to leave and Anders grasped his hand.

"I'm sorry, it's been a long day," he apologized. "Don't go."

Alistair sat on the edge of a clinic bed and Anders sat beside him. 

"What happened?" Anders asked softly.

Alistair shook his head. "Doesn't matter."

"Let me help," Anders said, touching his shoulder. "Talk to me."

Alistair admitted, "Right now, I don't want to talk. Right now I just want to stop thinking. I just want to feel anything other than this. I feel like I have three grown men sitting on my back, weighing me down and screaming in my ears the same things constantly. I tried to do anything else to distract myself. I played cards, I walked, I even tried knitting like Merrill said I should. But nothing could drown it out. And when I started drinking, it wasn't helping. I knew I wasn't just trying to feel better. I wanted to be out cold. I wanted to feel nothing. But I couldn't. I couldn't. So I put down the bottle and I just started walking."

Anders' hands were warm against his cheek. "You're freezing. I'll throw some more wood on the fire. Get under the blankets and I'll make us some tea."

Anders got up and went to the stove to put the kettle on. Alistair reluctantly went into the bedroom and settled under the worn quilt. He sat up when Anders came in and served them both weak tea. Anders leaned against the dresser across from him. 

Neither man touched their drink, watching the other. Eventually Anders left the room and Alistair could hear him fussing in the pantry. Alistair left the bedroom and found him cleaning something off the counter of his washbasin.

Alistair stood behind him and kissed his neck. Anders sighed and Anders slipped his hand between the mage's legs.

"You've been drinking," Anders murmured. "We shouldn't-"

"I know what I'm doing," Alistair said. "If you want me to stop, I'll stop."

Anders gasped as Alistair took him in hand. He wasn't gentle, stroking him quickly. Anders leaned back into him, panting. 

Alistair murmured, "Slick?"

Anders moaned, "Bedroom."

Alistair grunted, "Go get it."

He stepped back, letting the mage enter the back room. Alistair followed, undoing his belt. Anders was fumbling through the dresser and Alistair stood behind him again, kissing his neck. Anders quickly found a vial and passed it to him. 

Alistair pulled at Anders' drawstring and shimmed his pants down just low enough. He gripped his ass, circling his rim with his thumb while his nails dug into his flesh. Anders whimpered and Alistair coated his thumb before sliding it into him. Alistair worked him open and his other hand grasped the mage's cock roughly.

Anders shivered underneath him, pressing into his touch. One of his hands gripped the dresser, the other against the wall. 

"Okay?" Alistair whispered.

Anders moaned, "Yes."

"Strip," he instructed.

Alistair stepped back and Anders took off his shirt and stepped out of his pants. Alistair tossed him onto the bed and shed his own clothes. Anders lay on his back, licking his lips as Alistair knelt above him.

Alistair rested on his heels as he coated himself in the oil. Anders sat up, running his hands through his hair, kissing his throat. Alistair pushed him down and Anders wrapped his legs around his hips. 

Alistair thrust into him and Anders arched his back. Anders put his hands just above his head and Alistair pinned him down by his wrists. He kissed down his chest, licking and sucking a hard nipple. Anders shuddered, wrapping his legs tighter around him, his cock pressing into Alistair's belly. 

Anders pleaded, "Harder."

Alistair bit his breast and Anders cried out. He dragged his teeth against his collarbone and sucked against his throat. He pounded into him, gripping into his skin as if afraid he might slip away. 

Anders wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily. Alistair lost himself in the kiss, forgetting everything other than his lover's mouth. Alistair groaned and kissed him desperately, clawing at his back with one hand, the other wrapped around Anders' cock and stroked him hard.

Anders shuddered and came undone, spilling into his fingers. When he had stopped clenching around him, Alistair withdrew and jerked himself off into the sheets, gazing longingly into Anders' eyes as he finished.

Anders was already beginning to grow hard and Alistair took him into his mouth. He sucked him while he spread more slick on his fingers. He thrust them into Anders and the mage arched his back, pushing himself deeper down his throat. Alistair stroked him with his fingers and tongue until Anders was whimpering with need.

Alistair looked up at him hungrily, his own cock now stiff and aching. 

"Get on your knees," he ordered hoarsely. 

Anders sighed in relief and did as he asked, bracing himself against the end of the bed. Alistair coated himself and slid back into him, both men moaning in response. Alistair slammed into him, already desperate for another release. Their skin slapped together almost painfully, but Anders whispered his name again and again, begging him not to stop.

Alistair reached between Anders' legs and caressed him almost teasingly. Anders arched into him, thrusting his cock deeper into him. Alistair shuddered, skipping a beat in his rhythm. He kissed the back of his neck, brushing his lips against his broken skin.

Anders took himself in hand and Alistair put his hands on his hips, pounding into him. Anders grew almost quiet, grunting until his knees gave slightly and he gushed into his hand. Alistair kept his pace until his belly grew tight and he pulled out. Alistair tugged himself twice before he spurted into his own hand, shuddering.

Anders rolled onto his back. His lips were red and plump, his skin flushed and bruised. Alistair leaned down and kissed him softly, cradling him in his arms. 

"We shouldn't have done this," Anders whispered. 

"Why?" Alistair asked, stroking his face. 

Anders confessed, "I've ached for you for so long. Now I know what it could be like, to have you touch every part of me, to unravel me. I've dreamed of this, even knowing I should never dare to hope...Alistair. This will not end well. You have seen what I am, what I nearly did to someone who needed my help. What if Justice turns on you and sees you only as a Templar and not...you." 

Alistair murmured, "I won't let him. I was strong enough to restrain him. I can do it again, if you needed me to."

Anders murmured, "Justice thinks this is a trick."

"But what about you?" Alistair asked. "Do you trust me?" 

Anders admitted, "With my life."

"Then if you ask me to, I will spend my days by your side as your shield. You don't have to be afraid, Anders. Not with me." 

Anders kissed him hard and Alistair moved with him, covering his body with his own, his mouth with his own. A whisper of magic flowed through him and his cock stirred again. Alistair sat up and brought Anders into his lap. He grasped Anders' hair, wrapping it around his fingers as the mage sunk down on his cock.

Anders rode him and Alistair groaned, kissing up his neck to bite his earlobe. His hand brushed against his pulse as he went to cup his face and Anders moaned, sliding Alistair's hand back around his throat.

Alistair held him there, applying almost no pressure, but Anders shuddered and bucked against him desperately. 

"What can I do?" Alistair asked. 

"I want to feel you even when you're not here," Anders begged. "I want you to come inside of me. I want you to mark me. I want you to make me ache."  
Alistair pushed him down into the bed and withdrew. He held Anders' arms over his head, pining them down with one hand. He attacked his sensitive nipples, biting and sucking at his skin until his breasts felt almost swollen and plump. He thrust his fingers into him and Anders clenched down around him. His cock leaked against his belly, throbbing painfully. 

Alistair kissed his chest and looked deep into his beautiful brown eyes. "Okay?"

Anders pleaded, "More."

Alistair withdrew to grab his discarded belt. He bound Anders' wrists together and used his newly freed hand to stroke Alistair's throat. He teased his rim before pumping back into him with his thumb. Not letting his eyes leave Anders', he grasped his throat lightly. Anders gasped and his cock twitched painfully. 

Anders whispered, "I trust you."

Alistair kissed him tenderly, his hand moving into his hair, pulling him closer. He rolled Anders on top of him. Anders rode him once more, forced only to use his legs while his bound hands were now at his navel, his arms forcing his abused breasts together.

Alistair caressed his ass lovingly before giving it a tentative slap. Anders snapped his hips in response so Alistair hit him again. Anders groaned, thrusting Alistair deeper into him. Alistair stretched his cheeks further apart, stretching him around his cock. He fingered his entrance, even as his cock pumped into him. Anders cried out as Alistair slipped it further into him. His other hand slapped his ass, forcing him deeper into him as Anders shook. He did it again, each time inching his finger further into him. 

The mage started crying and whispered Alistair's name again and again, begging him not to stop. Alistair sat up as much as he could, bringing him into a deep kiss. 

"Is this what you want?" Alistair grunted. 

Anders moaned, "I'm so close. Please...please...touch me."

Alistair stroked him quickly and Anders buried his face in his shoulder, letting Alistair thrust up into him. Anders sobbed as he came and Alistair kissed him tenderly, holding him close as he rode through his orgasm.

The warrior unbound his wrists and kissed the reddened skin gently. Anders kissed him hard as Alistair rolled him beneath him again. A few more thrusts and he was lost, his entire body washed in pleasure and relief. He pulled away to watch his lover's face, feeling tears rolling down his own cheeks.

It was so different than anything he had ever felt before. There was no true joy in that moment. No promise of future happiness. He had that once. He had imagined a home filled with children, to never feel lonely, to always feel safe and protected, and loved. But all of it had come to nothing and he nearly lost himself to the loss. 

This was vulnerable and terrifying and broken, but he needed it. He needed it more than he had needed the drink. He needed it more than he needed food or sleep. His first love had broken his heart, but this threatened to destroy him, body or soul, depending on what first forced his hand. Alistair would fight to the death any Templar who tried to capture Anders. But he would keep his promise. He would use his own talents against him to keep another safe. His last moments could be watching the one he loved killed or he could be forced to destroy him himself. 

"Are you okay?" Anders asked, stroking his face.

Alistair smiled. "I'm okay. You?"

Anders took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay. We should...we should probably clean up, I guess."

Alistair kissed him softly. "I'll go get some washcloths. You stay comfy."

They both washed up and changed the sheets, settling back into the tiny bed together. Alistair rubbed one of Anders' lotions on his bruised skin as gently as possible. Anders snuggled into him and pulled the meager blankets around them. It was barely evening but Alistair was so tired he felt like he could sleep for days. He closed his eyes and drifted off.

***

The next day, Alistair packed up his few belongings at the Hanged Man. Isabela helped him clean up the room that had been his home for nearly three miserable years. 

"You're going to need to buy a bigger bed, you know," Isabela said. "I know right now you two are snuggly, but one day when the snoring stops being cute you're going to want to roll over. I know a guy, I'll set you up."

"Did it fall off a carriage?"

"I'm not saying if it did, but I am saying that you'll have the best sleep of your life on it. Nice Empress size bed. Lots of space for all the cats I imagine you'll be living with."

Alistair chuckled and Isabela put her hand on his shoulder. 

 

"You sure you know what you're doing, puppy?" 

"No," Alistair admitted, "but does anyone?"

Isabela smiled. "Not really. Don't let that get out though. You ready to go?"

Alistair looked around at the drab walls, the dirty floors. He thought he should feel more morose, knowing that he was finally letting go of the happily ever after.

But instead, he just missed Anders. 

Alistair smiled. "Yeah, let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True story: I have never had so much trouble writing a sex scene in my life. It's like I suddenly forgot how positions or pronouns worked and I rewrote it like four times. Ugh. At least it's finally done now.


End file.
